


Count Pebbles With Me

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Getting Together, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nipple Play, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16803157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Shiro knows where his focus lies and knows that, for him, school and romance just don't mix. He's comfortable with that. He can measure his pathetic romantic history by fizzled-out breakups, after all.That is, until he decides to partner up with the new student, Keith, for a big project in their geology class. Now maybe it's not so simple.





	Count Pebbles With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimmu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimmu/gifts).



> Fic for [hemsbutt](https://twitter.com/hemsbutt), who asked for college AU where Shiro is so focused on school that he hasn't dated a lot and has never had sex... until Keith appears, cool mysterious boy who sweeps him off his feet. Thank you so much for the prompt! ♥

“Will I actually see you sometime this month?” Adam asks when Shiro picks up on the forth ring. 

“Huh?” Shiro frowns as he fiddles with his pen, staring down at his physics textbook. 

“You know what I mean,” Adam sighs, tired.

Shiro flinches. He knows it’s been at least a week and a half since he last saw Adam, always ducking away from any tentative plans (and it was always Adam making those plans, wasn’t it?). Shiro closes his eyes against the inevitable. He’s an old expert at these conversations. 

“Adam,” he says, and it’s more resignation than pleading. 

There isn’t much left to say. The conversation ends on Adam’s, “This isn’t going to work.” 

Shiro can measure his romantic history by breakups. Adam isn’t the first. There was Al and Andrew. Maybe his problem is that he shouldn’t be dating A-named men. Maybe his problem is he shouldn’t be dating at all. His ex-boyfriends— and he isn’t sure if he can even call them that— lasted about a month before fizzling. Adam at least made it to two. 

Shiro considers himself a relatively straight-forward man. He knows what he wants. He goes to his classes, takes the necessary notes, returns to his apartment, and does the coursework and studying necessary to stay top of the class. It’s important. He enjoys it— has always loved learning, always loved succeeding. 

Dating just doesn’t really fit into that. He never dated in high school. His first relationship was at eighteen, right after orientation at Altea University. 

Shiro sighs and thumbs down through his cell phone, deleting Adam’s number and their pathetically short texting history.

-

Shiro does his homework. He doesn’t cry. 

-

Shiro prepares to spend the rest of the evening moping, but his Monsters & Mana group has other plans. They finish up their weekly three-hour blitz (and Shiro’s paladin only dies twice out of the five potential deaths!) when Shiro admits to the breakup. 

“Oh shit,” Matt says. “Okay, change of plans. Time to get Shiro drunk!” 

The others at the table agree. Shiro puts in a cursory protest, but then Allura chimes in, kindly, “It might be a nice way to get some stress relief, Shiro.”

“It’s a Wednesday,” Shiro says.

“So?” Matt asks. 

“So, I have class in the morning.” 

“Too late,” Matt crows. “It’s happening. Allura, your boyfriend’s frat’s throwing a party tonight, right?” 

“Lance isn’t my boyfriend,” Allura starts to protest, cheeks pink, but nobody’s really listening once Matt gets on his high horse. If Pidge were here, she’d be able to rein him in, but without her, it’s a bit of a losing battle.

-

Shiro isn’t sad about the world’s most lackluster breakup, which just makes him feel bad for not feeling bad. Really, he thinks he shouldn’t be at this party. 

But nobody’s really asking what Shiro thinks. 

Once they’re at the frat house pulsing with music and full of sticky, sticky floors, Shiro gets a beer and immediately heads to the back porch, where there are less people and fresh air and he can see some glimmers of stars beyond the light pollution. It’s the perfect backdrop for Shiro to feel sorry for himself. He leans on the railing and stares up at the sky. He swirls his shitty beer in its shitty red cup and sighs to himself, resigned to the knowledge that he’s always going to be alone because he isn’t willing to put in any effort to know somebody. 

That plan would have gone fine until—

“Fuck _you_ , Lance, I won that last round and you can suck it!” a slurred voice shouts and a body flops against his back, sending his shitty beer flying down into the dirt. The body slumps against him and stays there, and he feels like a furnace, radiating heat against the long line of Shiro’s back. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” a second voice shouts and when Shiro twists around to look over his shoulder, he sees a Lance (Allura’s not-boyfriend, the running joke of the M&M group) physically hanging off the doorframe leading from the house. “I’ll be over here sipping my victory champagne!” 

The boy slumped against him, face buried firmly into the region that’s neither Shiro’s shoulder blade nor armpit, growls and tries to twist around to spit at Lance. 

Shiro turns, too, to steady him before he goes flopping onto the porch like a pathetically drunk fish. “Hey,” he says, “Take it easy, buddy.” 

The guy whirls around and stares up at Shiro. Shiro recognizes him. Keith, the new guy who transferred in at the start of the second semester this year (noteworthy if only because of its rarity and the relatively tiny campus means everybody’s up in everybody else’s business). Keith squints up at Shiro, hair falling in his eyes that he tries, and fails, to bat away with unrefined, drunken movements. 

“Shiro,” Keith says. Shiro doesn’t startle but he isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that this guy apparently knows his name. 

He’s seen Keith a few times over the course of the semester— often from afar, never actually stopping to talk to him. He sometimes sees him walking to class while Shiro’s sitting in the gardens, enjoying the early afternoon quiet before the lunchtime rush. 

This is what Shiro knew about Keith before tonight: 1) he transferred in halfway through the year and 2) he drives a motorcycle.

This is what Shiro can now add to that list: 3) he is devastatingly handsome. 

Shiro actually _feels_ his heart lurch up into this throat. It’s absurd. Keith’s eyes are the most beautiful color Shiro’s ever seen. That’s a fourth thing to add to his list. 

“Uh,” Shiro says, intelligently, feels the blush creeping up his face as Keith sways and plants his hands on Shiro’s chest to hold himself steady. “Hi?” 

Keith smiles, and one of his cheeks has a dimple, and Shiro is _gone._ His breath punches out of him and his hands shake where he holds Keith up at his elbows. 

“You’re out here by yourself, Shiro,” Keith says, staring straight at Shiro’s face like he sees _all of him._ The reality is that probably the new guy is too drunk to look away without his vision swimming. 

“You know my name?” 

“Everyone knows who you are,” Keith says with that same wide, dimpling smile that’s leaving Shiro feeling a little weak-kneed and moon-eyed. “You’re impossible to miss. Your smile is—”

Keith finally leans back, using his hands pressed against Shiro’s chest for leverage (and Shiro valiantly tries not to shudder at the feeling), and stares up at him. 

His head lulls a little when he demands: “I’m Keith. Remember it.” 

“Oh,” Shiro whispers. “Okay. I mean, I already knew it.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “You’re, uh— memorable?”

It sounds stupid, even to his own ears. He doesn’t even _know_ Keith, not really. Aside from seeing him a few times, letting his gaze linger on the way Keith strides across campus like he doesn’t care, the murmurs he’s heard about his prickly nature. He’s mysterious. Everyone agrees. He’s cool, everyone agrees on that, too. _He’s mean,_ he heard some girls in the gym whisper to each other, but all Shiro could think was that not everybody is on their own by choice— if it weren’t for Matt, Shiro would have no social life to speak of, after all. 

“Memorable,” Keith tests the word, voice slurred. “You think I’m memorable?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees. He gives Keith a thoroughly dopey smile, _knows_ he must look ridiculous, and Keith smiles that dimple smile again—

Then lurches forward and barfs all over Shiro’s shoes. 

-

For the rest of the party, Shiro’s in the bathroom with Keith, holding his hair back as he hugs the toilet bowl. When he can manage it, he helps Keith sip some water. 

“Don’t remember this part,” Keith encourages and Shiro just smiles, sympathetic. His fingers slide through Keith’s hair and, despite the thoroughly disgusting sounds Keith is making, thinks that Keith’s hair is soft, likes the way it curls around the nape of his neck. 

-

“You’re never at parties,” Keith tells Shiro as Shiro opens the Uber door for him. “Everybody says so. Everybody calls you a— a cryptid or something.” 

“I doubt they say that,” Shiro laughs, trying to encourage Keith to duck into the car.

“They do,” Keith says. “I’ve only been here a couple months and I’ve heard it four times.” 

He sways, leaning heavily against Shiro. Shiro blushes and nearly falls over just from the point of (drunk) contact, his arm curled protectively around Keith’s shoulders. 

“I don’t usually go to parties,” Shiro admits. “My roommate made me come. Says it’ll help me get my mind off getting dumped.”

Keith’s expression pinches. “Who the fuck would dump you?”

“Plenty of people, as it turns out.” Shiro’s smile is self-deprecating as he finally manages to wrangle Keith into the Uber. Shiro shuts the door behind him with a quiet, “Sleep well, Keith.”

Keith rolls down the window as the Uber starts rolling down the street and shouts, slurred and drunken, in Shiro’s general direction, “You should date me!” 

Shiro’s sure that’s the moment his life ends.

-

Shiro doesn’t drink a lot that night, so when he wakes up Thursday morning for his ten-thirty class, he has plenty of time to shower, get breakfast, and get himself some coffee before heading to the lecture hall. 

The class, unfortunately, is the bane of his existence. If he could get away with just doing his astrophysics classes, he’d be thrilled. Unfortunately, he hasn’t completed all his bacc-core requirements.

Hence, Geology 201 with Professor Slav. 

Shiro is not one to throw around the word ‘hate’ needlessly, especially for things that, in the grand scheme, are not that important. An annoying class, for instance, will last him only a semester. 

But Shiro feels quite comfortable saying that he hates his geology class. 

He spends most of each class hating the way Slav teaches, hating the assignments, struggling to navigate the online platform used for class, and getting frustrated during lectures. Shiro spends most classes glaring down at his notebook as he struggles to take discernible, legible notes that later he’ll sweat over trying to decipher. Shiro can’t even place the reason why he struggles so much with this class. He’s always excelled in the sciences, and it isn’t as if geology wouldn’t come in handy considering the further research and exploration of exo-planets. Vulcanology especially would be a great thing for Shiro to understand. And yet. 

Shiro flops into his usual seat in the lecture hall, eyebrows already pinching together thinking about the assignment he’d completed this week and didn’t fully understand, already knowing that a student’s going to (purposefully!) ask a dumb question that will get Professor Slav to ramble into a different area entirely, wasting precious class time that could be devoted to actually explaining the material— Shiro isn’t hungover, but he has a headache just thinking about it.

He takes a moody sip of his coffee. 

About halfway through today’s class, Slav seems to remember that he was supposed to introduce the major project for the term and switches gears mid-sentence. He rambles on excitedly, getting off track talking about different realities in which basalt rock might be sedimentary in the right circumstances, and then returns to the original point of the assignment: a joint project with tangible results in association with Altea University’s biology department. They’ll be studying the effects of the local watershed on erosion and landscape development, while studying the waterbeds for ideal Altean Trout spawning grounds. 

Shiro chews on the lip of his coffee cup, doodling a trout in the corner of his page. It has a little speech bubble that says, _I dislike this!_

Shiro chuckles to himself and then looks around to see who needs a partner. Most of the people in his class, as far as he can tell, are friends or at least friendly. Shiro tends to sit by himself, not because he’s unfriendly but because, he’s well aware, people find him intimidating. He’s honestly not surprised nobody’s approached him. He doesn’t resent anyone for it— he’s heard the gossip, and it doesn’t affect him personally, really ( _Takashi Shirogane’s a genius, Takashi Shirogane’s so attractive, Takashi Shirogane’s too good for the rest of us obviously, Takashi Shirogane’s like a hot cryptid—_ ). 

As he’s looking around the room, though, Shiro’s eyes lock onto Keith’s. Keith’s glaring. 

Shiro nearly spills coffee down the front of his shirt with how quickly he jolts. Keith holds his gaze for a few seconds before he looks away, arms folded over his chest and boots kicked up on the seat in front of him. He’s hunched into himself, clearly trying to make himself smaller.

Shiro feels like an idiot for never realizing Keith was even in this class. Serves him right for keeping his eyes trained on his notes and slowly wanting to die and, thus, never actually looking around the lecture hall to see who his dozens of classmates are. 

Nobody else seems to need a partner, though, and so Shiro’s heart starts thundering as he picks up his stuff and shuffles his way to Keith. Each footfall feels like a lead weight. After the night before, he’s glad to see Keith at least alive enough to get to class, but the glare he’s sent his way is a little unsettling. Probably embarrassed about last night, Shiro decides. 

_You should date me!_ Keith’s shout echoes in Shiro’s mind as he approaches. 

“Hey,” Shiro greets. 

Keith swivels his head up and squints at him, eyebrows pinched together and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Shiro hesitates before sitting down beside Keith. 

“Still need a partner?” Shiro asks. 

Keith eyes him, then eyes the cup in his hand. “Is that coffee?” 

“Huh? Uh. Yes?”

Keith doesn’t wait for him to finish the monosyllabic thought (halfway through ‘ye—’) before he reaches out to take the cup, turns away, and takes a long slug. Shiro can only stare.

Keith lowers the cup and glares at nothing, then looks at Shiro, his nose wrinkled up. “What kind of milk is that?”

“Um,” Shiro says, taking the cup back. “Coconut milk?” 

Keith says nothing but continues to look like death warmed over. He folds his arms again and curls into himself with a grunt, kicking his feet up again on the seat. Shiro might not know much about Keith, but this certainly adds to his air of mysteriousness and aloofness. 

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Shiro adds, belatedly and unhelpfully. 

Keith peers at him from the corner of his eye before he seems to tire of that and squints, closing his eyes and breathing out slow and steady. Shiro’s left with the distinct impression that he’s annoying him.

“So, anyway,” Shiro pushes on. “Want to be partners?” 

_You should date me!_ Keith’s shout echoes in the deep recess of Shiro’s brain. For about two seconds, Shiro’s sure Keith will say no. 

“Okay,” Keith says, rubbing a thumb against his forehead, letting out a long, put-upon sigh. “Sure.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Keith mutters, then shoves Shiro’s own notebook towards him, the pen nearly rattling off onto the floor. “Give me your number and we can work out the details later.” 

-

**Unsaved contact, sent 1:34pm:** this is Keith 

**Shiro, sent 1:35pm:** Hi Keith! This is Shiro. :)  
**Shiro, sent 1:35pm:** I mean, obviously it’s Shiro. Haha.

 **Keith, sent 1:52pm:** yeah 

-

Shiro meets with Keith the next day. He parks himself at a big table in the wing of the library that isn’t designated for quiet study. All around, students speak to one another in low murmurs, curled up in some of the more comfortable chairs near the center of the rotunda. Shiro sends a quick text to let Keith know where he’s sitting. 

Shiro sees the moment Keith pulls up, mostly because Keith’s motorcycle is hard to miss. He drops his pencil as he watches from the window as Keith’s bike slides effortlessly into a spot across the street. Keith stays perched, straddling the motorcycle as he tugs off his helmet. His hair sticks to his forehead but Shiro finds that cute. He waves from the window but Keith doesn’t see him, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and heading towards the library’s entrance. 

Keith joins him soon afterwards, plopping down into the spot across from Shiro, looking tired but perhaps a little less murderous than he had the day before. He has his own coffee today and he wordlessly holds it out to Shiro.

“There’s no milk,” Keith says instead of greeting him. 

Shiro blushes and then smiles. “Making up for stealing my coffee yesterday?” 

Keith blinks at him but doesn’t retract the cup. He doesn’t smile but Shiro thinks there’s something like amusement on his face as Shiro takes the cup and takes a tentative sip. Keith looks away, the sun from the window splashing across his face, giving him a pink hue. 

“Pretty good,” Shiro decides after swallowing and holding the cup back out to Keith. 

They sit in silence, Keith slowly unpacking his bag— geology textbook, notebook, and laptop. Shiro licks his lips and then bites his bottom lip, studying Keith as he gets organized. 

“I like your motorcycle.” 

Keith looks up and almost smiles. It’s the softest he’s seen Keith’s face, aside from the drunk dimple smile that still very much haunts Shiro’s memory, barfy shoes aside. 

_You should date me!_ Keith had shouted that night. He hasn’t mentioned it, hasn’t even hinted at it. Shiro isn’t sure if he should bring it up. Keith was pretty drunk that night. 

Keith’s still almost smiling when he says, “Thanks. We’ll have to take it when we go count trout or whatever.” 

“That sounds like kind of like a euphemism, doesn’t it?” Shiro asks before he can stop himself. He blushes. “I mean. Kind of?”

“I guess it does,” Keith agrees, and this time he does smile. It doesn’t quite make his cheek dimple up, but it does a lot to soften Keith’s expression. 

“Ha ha, yeah,” Shiro says and grins, only on the slightest edge of manic. “Anyway, so. Schedule? We should work out what days work for us both to get out to the riverbed. We can get started on the research part today since we’re both here, right?” 

Keith thumbs open his calendar on his phone and rattles off his free days. Shiro tries hard not to stare at the way Keith’s fingers curl so delicately around his phone, because he is not pathetic and ridiculous—

Keith scratches his nose, absently. It’s adorable. Shiro is doomed. 

-

“Sorry you got stuck with me as your partner,” Keith says, apropos of nothing, about an hour into their work. 

“What?” Shiro asks. 

“I know you only picked me cause I was the only one left,” Keith says. He’s fiddling with his pen, twirling it between his fingers, and if Keith weren’t saying such upsetting things, Shiro would find _that_ as fundamentally distracting as Keith scratching his nose. 

“Well, yeah, but… no. I mean, I don’t think of it as me getting ‘stuck’ with you, Keith,” Shiro says. 

“Really?” Keith asks, staring at him. His cheeks are pink. Shiro wonders at that. 

“Really,” Shiro insists. “I’m glad I get to work with you. I mean… I’m glad I can get a chance to get to know you?”

Keith’s eyebrows lift. “I doubt you even knew who I was until this week.” 

(The first time Shiro ever saw Keith, it was the first day of the semester and Keith’s first day at Altea University. Shiro remembers thinking he looked lost, was about to approach him to ask him if he needed help, but then Adam took his hand for the first time— they’d only been dating about a week then— and it’d been thrilling and exciting and a little bit terrifying and when Shiro looked again, Keith was already gone. Shiro’s been thinking about that a lot today.) 

“Well. Same about you for me, right?” 

(Shiro’s brain helpfully reminds him, _You should date me!_ )

It’d be easy to say it was just looking out for a new guy, doing a good deed. But it isn’t the truth. Shiro isn’t used to being vulnerable, isn’t used to being truthful— a fault that ultimately led Andrew to break up with him last year, after spilling his life story to Shiro on their first date and then being annoyed when Shiro didn’t do the same. 

He doesn’t know why he wants to now, why something in Keith’s face makes him want to say it. 

“The truth is… I don’t really have a whole lot of friends. It’s—it’d be nice to know someone in the program. You’re astrophysics, too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and ducks his head, staring down at his notebook. He looks back up again at Shiro a moment later, frowning. “You seem popular.” He frowns when Shiro shrugs and continues, “You could probably make more friends if you wanted. You don’t have to settle for me?” 

“Do you want to be my friend, Keith?” Shiro asks, leaning forward across the table. 

Keith snorts, not looking at him. “When you say it like that, it sounds like we’re in kindergarten or something.”

“It can be that simple, right? If we want it to be,” Shiro decides. “Let’s be friends?” 

Keith looks away, peering out the window with a small, fond smile. Shiro sees a flash of his dimple for a moment before Keith smothers it with his palm, leaning his chin against his hand. 

“Okay. Sure,” Keith says, laughter in his eyes. “Friends. Who knew it was that simple?”

-

**Keith, sent 11:03pm:** do you actually like that coconut milk shit or is it a better than nothing situation?

 **Shiro, sent 11:05pm:** Soy milk is too sweet, hemp milk is oily, and almond milk makes me feel guilty since it’s so bad for the environment. 

**Keith, sent 11:10pm:** nerd  
**Keith, sent 11:11pm:** but noted 

-

Monday morning, they meet at the library to continue their research. Keith slides into his spot across from Shiro holding a large cup of coffee with coconut milk. He pushes it towards Shiro, mouth hinting at a smile. 

-

Shiro remembers Keith’s drunken Uber shout at inconvenient times. He tries to remind himself that Keith is either embarrassed about it or doesn’t remember it. It’s no good to linger.

He lingers anyway. 

-

**Keith, sent 1:15am:** so what’s monsters and mana 

**Shiro, sent 1:30am:** What? 

**Keith, sent 1:31am:** you keep mentioning it is it a game

 **Shiro, sent 1:32am:** Keith omg no WHAT, we need to play. It’s so good, you’ll love it! :)

 **Keith, sent 1:35am:** you’re not actually explaining what it is 

-

In geology class, Keith sits beside Shiro. He just drops right down like it’s easy, notebook propped up on his thighs as he hunches over, boots pressed into the back of the seat in front of him. He brings Shiro coffee. 

They’re going to the riverbed tomorrow. Keith has it all plotted out from the instructions Slav gave them, a mile stretch of river north of the Mamora Footbridge. There are easy nature paths all through the watershed, and the weather is clear tomorrow. It shouldn’t be too difficult a task. 

“Great,” Keith says once they firm up the details, speaking in low murmurs as Slav rambles on about cosmic elements which _should_ be interesting, if he didn’t keep stopping mid-sentence because beginning a sentence with ‘so’ is apparently bad luck. “So we can work on that, then in the evening you can finally show me your Mana & Monsters game.” 

“I _know_ you know it’s called Monsters & Mana and you’re just trying to annoy me,” Shiro says, even though he starts laughing. He elbows Keith, who shoulders him back. 

After Keith’s late-night text, Shiro had straight-up called Keith and dragged him through a forty-five minute explanation about Monsters & Mana’s concept, his group’s current campaign, and his paladin character. He’d only stopped because Matt had come home from a date and was shocked to see Shiro awake and _not_ doing homework. 

Shiro marvels at how easy it is with Keith. Shiro, for all his friendliness, doesn’t have a lot of friends, and certainly never got one simply by asking. He and Keith text all the time. Keith sits beside him in class. They talk for hours in the library, and not usually about geology. It’s nice. 

Shiro is, of course, aware that he’s also crushing hard on Keith. But that’s something to worry about later. 

-

Later turns out to be the next day. Shiro’s waiting for Keith outside his apartment when Keith comes roaring around the corner on his motorcycle. 

And— well. Oh. Keith parks in front of Shiro, revving his engine in an obnoxious hello. Desire zips straight through Shiro and settles in a low, burning coil in his stomach. 

“Wow,” Shiro says, which is inadequate and not nearly what he wants to say and he knows his tone is a little strangled, but it’s all he can manage. He only hopes Keith doesn’t notice. 

Keith yanks his helmet off and grins at Shiro, hair all disheveled, eyes sweeping across Shiro’s face. “She’s great, huh?” 

“Uh huh,” Shiro says, stupid. 

“Come on. While we’ve got daylight,” Keith says, opening up the bike’s back compartment and fishing out a second helmet. “Ready?”

“Oh,” Shiro says, and he can hear how punched-out his voice sounds. He’s an idiot. His grin is probably downright goofy. 

Keith stares at him, helmet held out, and just as Shiro realizes he should take it, Keith gives a faint smile and moves forward, plopping the helmet on him. He adjusts and buckles up the straps for him. 

“You’re hopeless,” Keith says, softly, and his voice is teasing. 

Shiro’s glad he has the helmet on so that Keith won’t see the way he blushes. “Maybe.”

“Your head would go rolling away if it weren’t attached to your shoulders.” 

“… Then I guess it’s good you’re here,” Shiro answers.

Keith’s smile is light, and his cheeks turn pink as he turns, putting on his own helmet. “Yep.” 

He straddles his motorcycle, swinging one leg easily over it. It’s a simple enough gesture but looks downright obscene as far as Shiro’s concerned. He stands there until Keith rolls his eyes and hooks his fingers in the pocket of Shiro’s jacket to tug him forward. 

Shiro’s quick to scramble on behind him, curling his arms around Keith and holding tight. 

“This okay?” 

“You’ll have to hold on tighter,” Keith tells him. “Don’t worry. I won’t break.” 

Shiro shudders, but luckily it’s at the same time Keith revs his motor to life, so it goes unnoticed. He tightens his hold on Keith and clings as Keith sets off down the street. 

It’s a beautiful drive to the project site, and Shiro hardly focuses on it, his entire focus zeroed in on the way he holds Keith, the way Keith flexes and folds in front of him, curling easily into the movements of his motorcycle, sending them around gentle bends with ease, accelerating on the long stretch of highway. Shiro closes his eyes, admiring how easily Keith holds him up despite his size. 

When they park, Shiro doesn’t want to let go.

-

“Oh, shit,” Keith says, as they tromp their way down the dirt path towards the spot marked on Keith’s map. They’re deep enough on the trail that GPS isn’t working anymore, but Keith took a screenshot of the map on his phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks, eyeing the river. It’s a nice stretch, more a stream than river at this point, the water about mid-calf deep, with a little current. The pebbles they’re meant to measure look a decent enough size. 

“We forgot the waders,” Keith says, shouldering his pack and scrambling off the path towards the river’s edge. Shiro follows him. 

“Oh,” Shiro says, frowning. “Huh. Okay.” 

It’s a long enough drive that it’s inconvenient to go back just to get the waders, especially since Shiro does have his M&M group tonight and he knows Matt will murder him if he’s late to that. He plants his hands on his hips and looks around, then towards the river, lips screwing up in thought.

“It should be okay,” Shiro decides, and then squats down. 

Keith gives him a bewildered look. “Shiro. This river is glacier-fed. I know you hate geology class but even you have to know what that means.” 

“How cold can it be?” Shiro asks, plucking off his socks and shoes and rolling up his pant legs. Keith’s eyeing him like a hawk, lips thin. Shiro grins up at him. “I’ll just barefoot it. It’ll be fine. No sense wasting a day, you know?” 

“Are you—” Keith looks torn between scolding and laughing. He gives Shiro an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious, Shiro.”

“Watch me!” Shiro declares, determined now, and stubborn. He stands and jumps into the water before he can second-guess it. They need to collect the pebbles from the center of the riverbed. They can’t do this without getting into the water. He takes three steps towards the center of the stream. 

“Shit!” Shiro shouts, after that brief pause where his feet enter the water and his brain realizes how _goddamn cold it is_. “Wow, this is cold!” 

“I _told_ you,” Keith shouts from the riverside. A moment later, he starts laughing. 

“Oh my god, I’ve never been so cold in my entire life,” Shiro says, playing it up only because Keith’s laugh is intoxicating, beautiful and dreamy and— _wow._ He wants Keith to always be laughing. 

“You big baby,” Keith mocks, scooting forward to the river’s edge and reaching out to pass his hand through the water. He snatches it back a moment later with a hiss. “Fuck! That’s cold!” 

“See?” Shiro calls back, laughing, jumping from foot to foot, balancing on one so he can hold the other out of the frigid, glacier-cold water. “I told you!” 

“I told you first!” He’s laughing, loud and unrestrained and— sweet. “Jesus, Shiro, get out of the water.” 

“I have to grab some pebbles!” Shiro protests and scoops his hands into the water to grab fistfuls of them. It’s ridiculously cold. 

“You’re going to get hypothermia and die and then I’ll get an F on this project.” 

Shiro’s laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. His feet are so cold, and the rocks in the river are smooth for the most part, but a few are poking at the bottom of his feet, and a few others are river slime-slick. He grabs his fistfuls of pebbles and hurries his way back out of the water. 

“You’re not supposed to carry them,” Keith points out, still laughing, once Shiro’s back on dry land, shaking his limbs out to warm up. 

“At least it’s not raining, too?” Shiro asks.

“Don’t say _that_! If I get rained on, I’m blaming you,” Keith protests. He snatches one of Shiro’s hands and tugs him down to sit beside him. “Come here. Gotta warm you up.”

He rubs Shiro’s hand between his own, soothing. He’s so focused, his cheeks red from laughing, his mouth hinting a smile. 

“We’ll have to do this right another day,” Keith sighs. “There’s no way we can do this part of the project without the waders.” 

Keith looks up at Shiro, hands pressed around his. Shiro thinks, for a wild moment, that he could kiss Keith and it’d be amazing, out here in the forest, the sun shining down at them, the river babbling. It’s romantic. Keith smiles up at him, amusement still shining in his eyes despite his scolding. 

“Well,” Shiro says, voice dropping lower. “I’ve got some pebbles?” 

Keith’s mouth twitches with a smile. He looks up at him through his lashes. “Are you suggesting we sacrifice the validity of the results just so you don’t have to get your feet cold?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Shiro says, with all the solemnity he can muster. 

Keith laughs. He’s still holding Shiro’s hand between his own. “Sounds pretty unacademic, Shiro. What would Slav say?”

Shiro groans. Keith laughs again, looking at their hands, fingertips touching Shiro’s knuckles. And then, sadly, he lets go. 

They measure the pebbles Shiro managed to grab, but it wasn’t enough to get a true sampling of the location. Keith marks the notes diligently. They call it a day, early, with a promise to come back to the same location and finish up before moving on to the next location. 

They drive back home. Shiro clings to Keith the entire time, his hands warmed against the furnace of Keith’s body. 

-

**Keith, sent 4:10am:** you have a really nice laugh you know 

-

**Keith, sent 7:42am:** ignore that  
**Keith, sent 7:42am:** couldn’t sleep 

-

**Shiro, sent 9:58am:** I like y  
**Shiro, sent 10:01am:** Sorry! I hit send too quickly haha. I meant I like your laugh, too! 

-

Shiro’s about to open the door to head into geology class when Keith steps in front of him and blocks his path, hands in his pockets.

“Oh!” Shiro says, then smiles. “Hey, Keith. Good morning.” 

“Let’s go,” Keith says, then grabs Shiro’s arm, pulling him away from the door.

“Uh. Keith, wait. Class?” 

“Screw it. Let’s go to the river. We have to make up for yesterday,” Keith says. He looks tired and determined, cheeks pink and eyes blazing. 

“Woah, but,” Shiro says, looking over his shoulder. Ultimately, he’s not really protesting, letting Keith drag him along easily (wow, he’s strong, Shiro thinks wonderingly). “I’ve never— uh, I’ve never actually skipped a class before.” 

Keith snorts and shoots him a disbelieving look. “Holy shit, Shiro. We’re definitely skipping another time where we’ll do something fun. This doesn’t count cause we’re essentially skipping class to do homework, and that’s stupid.”

Shiro laughs and doesn’t protest when Keith leads them to his motorcycle, climbing on after Keith and curling his arms around his waist. He remembers a second later that he must put his helmet on and hurriedly does that, embarrassed as he uncoils his arms from the vice-like grip at Keith’s middle. Keith’s smiling as he tugs his helmet on, too. 

-

They get to the river’s edge, with waders and all, but instead of doing actual work, Keith just drops down onto the ground and looks up at Shiro expectantly. Shiro chuckles and sits down beside him.

It’s a sunny day, beautiful and clear, light filtering in through the trees. It’s the high desert, and so they’re thin and far between, more shrub than tree, and it’s pleasant, endless pines and birdsong. The water laps along in front of them, a pleasant backdrop. The water’s so clear. Shiro didn’t appreciate that yesterday. 

Shiro glances at Keith, but Keith is looking up at the tree tops, at the cloudless sky beyond. Shiro smiles to himself and settles, leaning backwards and resting against the cool ground. It’s not the most comfortable position in the world, but there’s something to be said about just being there, doing nothing. He can’t remember the last time he was truly doing nothing, much less with somebody he genuinely liked spending time with. 

Shiro closes his eyes and the world fades away. He doesn’t even fully realize that he’s fallen asleep until he’s waking up, Keith still sitting beside him, fiddling with a few blades of grass, braiding them together. 

He glances at Shiro once he sees him stirring. “Hey.” 

“Sorry,” Shiro says, rubbing at his eyes. “Guess I was tired.” 

“It’s okay. But I tied your shoelaces together so don’t get up too fast or else you’ll faceplant into the river,” Keith says, deadpan, and only starts laughing once Shiro looks down at his perfectly laced shoes in alarm. He grins at Shiro and tosses aside the grass. “Want to get started?” 

“Oh, sure. Sorry. You should have woken me up.”

“I didn’t mind,” Keith says. “You looked peaceful.” 

Keith pulls on the waders. They’re comically large, stopping mid-thigh and ridiculously easy to slip into despite Keith’s thick boots. He laughs to himself and then wades out into the river. 

“Okay,” Keith calls over his shoulder. “Much better than yesterday.” 

Shiro fishes their notes out of his backpack and waits as Keith fishes a pebble from the river and measures it with the clear, pocket-sized ruler. 

“Five centimeters,” Keith calls and Shiro records it. 

Keith goes through the next few pebbles diligently, dropping one and picking up another, measuring and calling out. They work, uninterrupted, for about twenty minutes, Keith slogging up and down their patch of the river, measuring pebbles at random and tossing them belligerently back into the water. 

“You know what,” Keith decides, hands on his hips. “I think I’m going to just start wearing these waders to class. They’re a fashion statement.” 

Shiro snorts out a surprised, disbelieving laugh. He likes that about Keith’s humor— that it comes out of nowhere and takes him by surprise. He grins down at the paper he’s writing their measurements onto. 

“You’ll be memorable,” he decides. 

“Hm,” Keith snorts to himself. He chuckles as he digs around in the water, coming back up with fistfuls of pebbles in his pinked, cold hands. “I’m going to go ahead and guess these are all five centimeters.” His smile betrays his amusement, despite the dry delivery. “Can we go to another part of the river now?”

Shiro laughs. “Keith,” he scolds. “Be serious.” 

Keith rolls his eyes and drops the pebbles so they all plop and splash into the stream. “I’m just saying. If this _was_ a good place for the Altean Trout to nest, me stomping around and throwing pebbles isn’t going to be that much help. What if I dislodge the eggs?” 

“It isn’t the breeding season yet,” Shiro says, far more confidently than he feels. He has no idea when trout spawn. 

He looks up in time to see Keith rolling his eyes, but his smile is fond. “Alright, nerd.” 

-

“Thanks for skipping with me today, Shiro,” Keith says later that afternoon when he drops Shiro off. 

Shiro laughs, unbuckling his helmet and smiling back at Keith, knowing he’s pink-cheeked and moon-eyed, and not really caring. “Even though we skipped to basically just do homework?”

“Even so,” Keith agrees, his smile dimpling his cheeks. Shiro wants to kiss him.

He coughs instead, looking down with a small, shy smile. “I had fun. I mean. I like hanging out with you.” 

“Yeah,” Keith says, quietly. When Shiro glances up at him, Keith’s eyes are soft. His eyes are so dark, so pretty. 

Unhelpfully, as his mind is wont to do, he remembers Keith hanging his head out his Uber’s window and shouting, _You should date me!_

He clears his throat and hops off Keith’s bike, opening the back compartment to tuck his helmet in there before closing it back up with a snap. 

“See you in a couple days?” Shiro asks. 

“Sure,” Keith agrees, smiling at him, fond. 

-

He texts Keith constantly the next few days. Shiro usually hates texting. He can’t get enough of it with Keith. Sometimes he just texts emojis, just to see if Keith will send them back. 

-

They swap wader duty for the next few visits as they trudge their way up their mile patch of river. Keith’s surprisingly patient about measuring the pebbles but Shiro gets the more accurate readings. It falls into an easy, simple pattern, one that almost makes Shiro not totally loathe the assignment or the class if it means he’s spending time with Keith. 

They go to the river together. They sit in class together. They text each other. They eat lunch together when they get the chance. One memorable night, Keith plays Monsters & Mana with the group, designing a barbarian half-elf named Thunderstorm Darkness. He wastes all his potions on trying to keep Jiro the Paladin alive. 

Shiro goes to bed every night texting a good night text to Keith. Keith always responds back. 

-

Their last day at the river finds the day cloudy and cooler than most. It’s Keith’s turn to wade the river and it’s an old dance: Keith drops his wallet, keys, and cellphone into Shiro’s cupped hands before moving out into the water. 

Shiro sits down on the riverside, tucking Keith’s stuff carefully into his jacket pockets, before clicking on his pen and writing out the measurements. They move much more diligently now, and Shiro doesn’t anticipate this will take too long. It’s a good thing, since it’s a chillier day and later than usual. 

They work silently for about an hour before Keith says, “You get really stuck in your head sometimes, huh?”

“Huh?” Shiro asks, looking away from the digits he’s recorded. 

“I don’t know,” Keith says, shrugging. He plants his hands, cold-kissed, on his hips. “Sometimes you just look…” 

He trails off, apparently unsure how to articulate what Shiro looks like. Shiro watches him, the delicate slope of his nose in profile, the careful bow of his body as he ducks down to pull out more pebbles. 

“You looking out for me, Keith?” Shiro asks, and maybe means it as a joke— except it comes out too serious. 

“Someone has to,” Keith decides as he measures out the pebbles in his hands. “Is that a bad thing?” 

“No,” Shiro admits. “Nobody really does.” 

“That’s a little sad, isn’t it?” Keith asks, but it’s more rhetorical than anything. Shiro knows that Keith’s just as likely to be left unobserved. 

“I don’t know,” Shiro says. “I’m used to it.”

“You’ve said that before,” Keith says, tossing a pebble into the river. 

“Well,” Shiro laughs. “Most people don’t really bother to get to know me, you know? They have their own ideas about me. Even you knew who I was before we even met.” 

Keith shrugs, staring down at the pebbles in his hands for a moment. He speaks to them, not looking at Shiro, “I saw you my first day after I transferred here, you know. You were sitting out near the rose gardens just looking out at the horizon.”

“Yeah?” Shiro asks, frowning, not able to recall what specific moment Keith means. He sits out near the roses often, after all. 

“You looked lonely,” Keith says, dropping the pebbles. “I remember thinking that.” 

Shiro frowns, surprised. “I—”

“I wanted to go over there and talk to you,” Keith admits, still staring down at the rushing water around his shins. “But I didn’t. I don’t know why.” 

“You— you really thought I looked lonely?” Shiro asks.

“Weren’t you?” Keith asks. “I, sometimes I’m— I guess I just thought it.” 

Shiro’s quiet for a moment, feeling, quiet suddenly, entirely exposed. 

“I don’t think anybody’s ever really… noticed me like that before,” Shiro admits. 

“Then everybody else is stupid,” Keith decides. It’s such a Keith response that Shiro can’t help but laugh. There’s a pause and then the moment passes. 

Keith’s fiddling with the ruler in his hand, his hands shaking. A moment later, the little plastic ruler goes flying and plops into the river. 

“Shit!” Keith curses, trying to spot it in the running water. “Fuck.” 

“Oops,” Shiro says. He looks down at his notebook paper. “… Want to just say the rest were a range between eight and fifteen centimeters?” 

Keith shoots him a look. “But Shiro, isn’t that ‘dishonest’ and ‘negating the entire experiment’?” 

“Who said that?” Shiro asks, innocently.

“You did!” Keith laughs.

“Well, I’m full of hot air. Come on. Let’s head back.” 

Keith snorts, but is wobbly-footed, and Shiro should have expected that Keith would misstep and go tumbling into the river. The river is slick. But he’s still surprised when it happens. One moment Keith is standing there, graceful and strong, and the next he’s flat on his ass in the river, cursing like an angry cat.

“Keith!” Shiro calls, already stomping into the river before he’s even fully aware he’s doing it. His shoes are immediately soaked and he shudders with the shock of cold water soaking his socks. He reaches for Keith. “Are you okay?”

“God, yeah. I’m fine,” Keith mutters, looking like he’d straight-up murder a river if he could. He lets Shiro help him up, holding onto him. “Ugh. I’m all wet.” 

“… Riding a motorcycle isn’t going to be fun,” Shiro tells him. It’s getting dark, so they have the night air chill to look forward to on top of all that. 

-

Once they collect all their stuff and get back to the motorcycle, Shiro insists on making Keith wear his jacket, to ward off the wind-chill. It means Shiro’s only in his shirt, which is hardly ideal, but he makes do. By the end of the ride, they’re both covered in goosebumps and shivering.

“Come inside,” Shiro tells him. “You can use my shower. Better than the dorms, I promise.”

“The river is a better shower than the dorms,” Keith mutters, but doesn’t protest Shiro’s offer. He locks up his bike and follows him up three flights of stairs to Shiro and Matt’s shitty apartment. 

“You can stay the night if you want,” Shiro offers, as casually as he can. 

Keith looks up at him, staring at him for a long moment. It’s an intense look, like he’s trying to puzzle Shiro out, figure out what Shiro isn’t saying.

“Oh,” Keith says. Then he blinks. “Yeah? You sure?” 

Shiro only nods, confused by the reaction. Keith blushes and murmurs a quiet _okay._ It’s only after Shiro gets Keith a towel and a fresh change of clothes that he realizes that Keith is going to be very naked in his bathroom in a moment. 

“Um,” Shiro says, intelligently, as his entire face heats up. “Just, uh, drop your clothes outside the door. I can run a wash.”

“You have a washer and dryer? Now I really know I’m in the lap of luxury,” Keith says, sarcastic and almost-smiling. He shrugs out of Shiro’s coat and holds it out to him. “Thanks, Shiro.” 

“Uh huh,” Shiro says, because he’s a gremlin who can’t say more than two words now that he’s imagining Keith naked. 

Shiro’s in agony while Keith showers. He tosses his socks and pants into the washer along with Keith’s clothes to clean, then quickly changes into a fresh pair of pants before Keith shows up in time to see him in just his underwear. 

Keith remerges from the shower, a burst of steam heralding his return. He steps out, toweling his hair. He’s wearing Shiro’s shirt and it hangs loose over his shoulders. 

“Oh, uh, everything go okay?” Shiro asks, in a brilliant show of inane statements. 

Keith’s smile is faint when he nods. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

He’s drifting far too close to him, Shiro thinks. Or maybe he’s feeling jumpy. He swallows. “You, uh, you hungry? I can heat something up?”

“I’m fine,” Keith says. He looks down at Shiro’s feet. “Still cold?” 

“I’m okay,” Shiro answers, feeling breathless. Something’s shifted in the air, something about the way Keith towels his hair, lets it fall in his eyes. The tilt of his head. The slope of Shiro’s shirt on his shoulders. The way Keith’s looking at him. 

“Mmm.” 

Shiro just barely leans in, responding to the splay of Keith’s lashes on his cheeks, the slide of a water droplet down his neck, caught by the shirt collar. He’s not quite sure he’s even doing it. But then Keith leans into his space, tipping his chin up, and nearly kisses Shiro. Shiro, in a rush of adrenaline fight or flight, nearly headbutts Keith when he jerks his head forward, and then suddenly back again. His eyes go wide. 

He knows it was a mistake the moment Keith’s eyes widen. “Oh—”

“Keith,” Shiro starts.

“Oh shit,” Keith interrupts, his entire face turning red. “Sorry. I, uh. I thought— I thought we were going there.”

“No! I mean, I—” Shiro isn’t sure what he means. He fumbles and falters, red-faced. 

Keith is equally as red. And it’s directly in that moment that Shiro’s perception of Keith as the cool and mysterious bad boy melts away entirely, replaced, instead, with someone blushing and fumbling, hands fisting up in the loose fabric of his borrowed shirt. Someone just as unsure and vulnerable as Shiro. Oh. 

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” Keith mutters. “I just thought— doesn’t matter.” They stand there in a horrifying silence. “God. Fuck, I’m sorry, Shiro,” Keith says, voice going even quieter. “I’ll just— go.” 

It’s an absurd suggestion. Keith is wearing his clothes. He doesn’t have any socks on. Keith’s clothes are rattling away in Shiro’s washer. 

Keith looks so embarrassed and Shiro knows that if he lets Keith walk out his front door, he’ll never see him again. 

“Wait,” Shiro says, lurching forward and grabbing Keith’s wrist. His own face is red— he can feel it. He swallows. 

_You should date me!_ Shiro remembers Keith shouting, earnest and loud and drunk, and had assumed it was just because Keith was drunk. Keith never mentioned it again.

Keith’s ears are red. He’s not looking at Shiro. But he doesn’t pull his hand away from Shiro’s grip. 

“Keith,” Shiro begins. He doesn’t plan on saying it, but it’s what springs to mind and he can’t stop it. Shiro blurts out: “I’ve never done this before!” 

“What?”

Shiro fumbles. “I’ve never— uh. I’ve never had sex before?” 

Keith gives him a startled look. “What?” 

“I’ve never had sex before,” Shiro says again. 

“ _What_?” Keith asks again. “Who said— who said anything about having sex? I was just going to _kiss_ you, Shiro!” 

“Uh.”

“Yeah, _uh!_ ” Keith throws his hands up in the air, looking very much like a cornered animal. “Shiro, what—!” 

“Oh my god,” Shiro says, with no small amount of horror. He stares at his window, wondering if it’s a completely reasonable decision to just fling himself out the third story and let gravity have its way with him. 

Keith stares at him and then, mercifully, just starts laughing. He ducks his head, snorting out. “Holy shit. _Shiro._ ” Keith giggles, helplessly. “Did you— did you think I was just going to rip your clothes off or something?” 

“I don’t know!” Shiro protests, but he’s laughing too. Something lightens in his chest. Relief or embarrassment or whatever it might be. 

“Yeah, coming straight out of the shower and coming for you, dick first,” Keith mutters. He drags his fingers through his hair, a nervous fidget as he glances up at Shiro through his bangs. He’s unfairly attractive. It’s devastating. 

“Yeah, okay, laugh it up.” 

Keith does, but only for a moment. Just as quickly, his expression sobers. 

“Sorry. I won’t do that again. I just thought…” His eyebrows pinch together. “I thought we were… kind of, you know. Doing this.” 

“Doing what?”

“Dating… or at least on our way to it?” Keith asks, like it’s a question. 

Shiro’s eyes bug out. “What?” 

“Clearly I was wrong,” Keith says, looking away. He blushes, embarrassed. “Sorry. I’m shitty at this.” 

“You thought we were dating?” 

“No,” Keith clarifies. “I don’t consider measuring pebbles to be dating. But, you know… I was getting the vibe.” He scuffs his foot against the floor. “I was wrong. We can drop it.”

“I mean,” Shiro says, faintly, “You’re not wrong.” 

Keith looks up at him and doesn’t even disguise the hopeful look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t know about a vibe… I mean. I don’t know if you remember when you were drunk, but—”

“I told you we should date,” Keith interrupts. 

“Oh.” Shiro pauses. “I thought maybe you didn’t remember that since you never brought it up.”

“I was _embarrassed,_ Shiro,” Keith protests, exasperated. “I threw up on you and then propositioned you!” 

“Ah, well. When you put it like that…” 

They stand there in a long silence. Keith pulls his hands from his pockets only to fold his arms over his chest, looking down at their feet. 

“This is so stupid. Okay. Let’s start over, go back.” Keith takes a deep breath.

“Sure. Okay. Hi, I’m Shiro.”

Keith’s mouth twists up as he holds back his laugh. “Not that far back, you nerd!” 

Shiro grins. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone you just met, mysterious and handsome stranger!” 

Keith shoves at his shoulder. Shiro catches his hand before he can pull it back, tangling their fingers together. 

Keith’s smile goes softer. “Hey. You sap.” 

“Hey,” Shiro answers. “Hi. I think you’re really cute and I like you and I’d like to kiss you, maybe?” 

“Only maybe?” Keith teases, blushing. 

“If you were into it.” 

Keith laughs, ducking his head. 

“Hm,” Keith hums, tipping his chin up, then leaning in to do just that— mouth sliding sweetly against Shiro’s. 

Keith steps closer, bold, touches his hands to Shiro’s hips and keeps him there. It’s soft and sweet and simple, and there’s never been a kiss that’s made Shiro feel this way. Nobody but Keith has ever made him feel this way. Keith’s mouth is soft, pressing against his. It’s a simple kiss, nothing too pressing or too heated, but it sets Shiro on fire all the same. 

“For the record,” Keith says, breaking the kiss and peering up at him. “I like you, too.” 

“Okay. Sure. Why’d you stop kissing me?” 

Keith rolls his eyes and hooks his arm around Shiro’s shoulders instead, tugging him down and kissing him, much more firmly this time. 

Shiro takes a step back, tugging Keith with him. Together, they tumble backwards and eventually Shiro hits the couch and falls, pulling Keith with him.

Sprawled out on the couch like that, Keith kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. Shiro goes breathless, shivering, kissing Keith back and soaking into the feeling of Keith’s pleasant weight against him, his hands in Keith’s hair, his mouth angled against his, Keith’s teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. It’s a lot. It’s perfect. 

“Hey,” Keith whispers against his lips.

“Mmm?” Shiro hums, content to simply keep kissing him if he can get away with it.

Keith pulls back, though, peering at him. His face is flushed a beautiful pink, lips parted, hair framing his face. Desire lances through Shiro and he curls his toes just from the intense look. 

“You’ve really never done this before?” Keith asks. 

“I’ve kissed people.” 

Keith’s mouth twitches with a smile. “I just mean… I’m not doing any of this with expectations, you know?” 

“I know,” Shiro answers, blushing. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t really mean to say that.” 

Keith settles in over him, pressing his body down against Shiro’s, both of them stretched out and comfortable on the couch. Keith looks at him carefully, gauging his reaction. 

“You just… seem like the type who’d have…” Keith trails off, blushing. “You’ve never really slept with anyone before?” 

“Is that weird?” Shiro asks. “It’s weird.” 

“It’s not weird!” 

“It’s totally weird,” Shiro groans. “It’s embarrassing. Every guy I’ve ever dated never really lasted long and I was just… focused elsewhere. I—”

“Shiro,” Keith interrupts, voice gentle but firm, “I don’t think it’s weird.” 

“Really?” Shiro asks. He’s not sure why he’s surprised. It’s Keith. As far as he can tell, Keith’s pretty much perfect— and understanding, unyieldingly observant. 

“Really,” Keith affirms, fingertips brushing over Shiro’s mouth, skimming his jaw. Shiro closes his eyes, shivering at the pleasant touch. “I mean… we can take it slow now,” Keith says. “We aren’t even dating yet.” 

“Yet?” 

“Well.” 

“It can be as easy as becoming friends, right?” Shiro asks, grinning. “Hey, Keith.” 

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith teases. 

“Be my boyfriend?” 

“This is so stupid,” Keith mutters, blushing. But he’s smiling. 

Shiro’s entire body is on fire, humming to life. Keith’s hair is wet from the shower but curling around his ears. His eyes are so beautiful. He’s wearing Shiro’s shirt. 

“Should I get off you?” Keith asks. 

“Huh?”

“I mean,” Keith continues, ears turning pink. “I don’t want to like— push you too far or anything. Right?” 

Shiro sighs. “I’m not— I like this.” Keith smiles a bit and Shiro smiles back, embarrassed but happy. “I’ve dated people before, Keith.” Kind of. “There isn’t some deep reason why I’ve never done— more before. It just never really happened.”

“I get it,” Keith says— because he’s kind. “But I’m just saying nothing has to happen tonight.” 

“Ah, I see,” Shiro teases, nosing at Keith’s jaw. “You’re not the type to sleep with a guy on the first date, huh?”

Keith snorts, but leans into Shiro’s attention, sighing when he plants a kiss at the spot just in front of his ear. “We haven’t even had our first date yet, Shiro.”

“Not the type to sleep around pre-first date, then.” 

Keith laughs. He touches Shiro’s face again, fingertips ghosting across Shiro’s smile. His eyes are warm as he says, “You’re so pretty.” 

Shiro grins, giddy and ridiculous. “Keith…” 

He presses up to meet Keith’s mouth as Keith ducks down to kiss him, cupping his face. They swap kisses easily, sinking into one another. Despite Keith’s assurance that nothing will happen, Shiro feels every inch of Keith’s body pressed to him like a promise, like a lifeline. 

Shiro sighs into the kiss, breathless, curling his arms around Keith and keeping him tethered down against him. Keith smiles into the kiss, licking into his mouth and pressing down more fully against him. 

“Oh,” Keith gasps out when Shiro rocks his hips up, pointedly. “Shiro.” 

Shiro laughs, embarrassed. “Ah. Sorry.”

Keith pushes his hair away from his face, looking breathless. He gives Shiro a lopsided smile, cheek dimpling. 

“Do you— uh, say no if you want, but,” Keith begins.

“Yes.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!” Keith laughs.

“The answer’s yes,” Shiro insists. “Keith, I really— I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this way about somebody before. I want— everything with you. Is that too weird to say?” 

Keith blushes, but he’s smiling. “Wow. No. Not weird. Not… really not weird.” 

“Maybe it’s not a good idea?” Shiro asks, not convinced. “Maybe just… I like you isn’t a good enough reason?” 

Keith snorts, not unkindly. His hands brush along Shiro’s jaw, down his neck, settling at his collarbone. He squirms a little above him, and it sends electricity prickling through Shiro, a pleasant buzz of desire and energy. 

“I slept with a guy once because I saw him at a party and thought he’d have a big dick,” Keith says, unflinching. 

“Huh,” Shiro says, unsure how to take that statement. 

“My point is,” Keith presses on, “People sleep with other people for whatever reason they want. Your reason isn’t weird. That’s what I meant. I, um. I obviously like you, too. Like I said.” 

“I have a big dick,” Shiro says before he can stop himself. 

Keith stares at him, a little wide-eyed, and then he snorts out an embarrassed, surprised laugh. “ _What_ did you just say?” 

“I said I have—”

“God, stop,” Keith laughs, definite heat in his eyes. “You can’t just say that like it’s nothing, Shiro. Besides,” he continues, definitely teasing now, “how would you even know?” 

“… An educated guess,” Shiro decides, grinning. “I’m— not opposed to a second opinion.” 

Keith straight-up giggles, ducking his head and biting his lip. His hands settle at Shiro’s waist, touch light and promising. Shiro shivers. 

“… Do you want to?” Keith asks. “You can say no. Seriously.” 

Shiro runs his hands down Keith’s back, feeling the long, lean line of his body, gazing up into the smoldering heat of his eyes. 

“I want to,” Shiro says. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Keith replies. “Obviously. Yeah.” 

“Then why wait?” Shiro asks, giddy, nervous, excited all at once. He sits up quickly and nearly headbutts Keith all over again as he scoops him up and lifts, effortlessly, onto his feet. Keith clings to him with a startled gasp and a loud _woah!_ as Shiro starts carrying him to the bedroom. The last thing Shiro wants is for Matt to come home to see them making out (or more) on the couch. He’s a generous, consider roommate. 

“Geez,” Keith laughs against his ear, voice soft and wondering, arms curled possessively around Shiro’s shoulders. “Wow.” 

Keith’s considerate enough to wait before tackling Shiro until Shiro’s set him down on his bed. He smiles up at him and then yanks him down hard by his shirt, shoving him onto the bed and crawling up after him. 

“Well. Let’s see what you’re working with, Takashi ‘Big Dick’ Shirogane,” Keith tells him, smirking. His hands skim across the waistband of Shiro’s pants, teasing. 

“God!” Shiro shouts, bursting into startled laughter, not having the time to be nervous about Keith’s hands resting at his hips like that. “Oh my god, don’t call me that!” 

He swipes playfully at Keith who easily dodges away, pressing back in a moment later to kiss Shiro. It’s a sloppy kiss, both of them laughing, but it’s the best kiss Shiro’s ever had. 

He arches a little as Keith pushes his shirt up over his chest. Keith settles, straddling Shiro’s hips, and sits back to stare down at Shiro, observing him in that intense, quiet way Keith always does. Shiro takes a deep breath and tugs his shirt off. Keith’s eyes drag over him, lingering. 

“I, uh,” Keith says, dropping his hand down to rest at Shiro’s stomach, fingertips tracing the lines of his abs. “I’m a little nervous.” 

“You are?” 

Keith shrugs at the surprise in Shiro’s tone. “Hey. Pretty sure I’ve never been anybody’s first time before, much less with someone so hot.” He smiles. “I want it to be good.” 

Shiro blushes. He reaches out and tugs Keith’s shirt up and over his head, watching the way his hair falls and frames his face again. He knows his smile is downright ridiculous when he says, “It’ll be good. I mean… I hope it’s good for you, too.” 

Keith smiles, running his hands up Shiro’s chest. His fingertips catch and drag across Shiro’s nipples and Shiro _gasps_ before he can stop himself. They both freeze up.

“Wow,” Keith whispers just as Shiro bites his lip to hold back an embarrassed whimper. 

Keith dives at him then— kissing him hard and deep, sweeping his tongue into his mouth as his fingertips drag purposefully over his nipples, thumbs swirling, blunt fingernails dragging over his chest. Shiro keens and arches beneath him, shuddering from that feeling. He had no idea he could feel like that, how much different it would feel to have Keith’s hands on him rather than his own. 

“Keith,” he whispers into the kiss and Keith hums in response, biting his lip and pinching both his nipples between his fingers. Shiro gasps again and it tapers off into a pleased groan, hips stuttering upward before he can stop them. 

Focusing on that, Keith pinches and drags his fingers over him, swallowing each sound Shiro makes. This alone is enough to make him feel incandescent, his hips pressing up. Keith sighs into the kiss, rocking his hips down to meet him. Through the fabric of their pants, Shiro can feel Keith’s cock hardening. Shiro’s already hard, his hands dragging down Keith’s back, cupping his ass and pulling him down closer.

“Good?” Keith asks, shit-eating grin and all, once he pulls back from the kiss. 

Shiro groans at him, only to start gasping when Keith ducks his head and kisses down his neck, teeth skimming. He licks at his collarbone, then drags his tongue to replace his fingers, licking and sucking and biting at each nipple until Shiro is a gasping mess, achingly hard and clinging to Keith’s shoulders. 

“Keith, God!” he moans. He feels Keith smile against his chest, teeth nibbling at one nipple before he sweeps down, kissing his heaving stomach, hands brushing along his side, cupping his hips. 

“Think you can come from just that?” Keith asks, grinning up at him. 

“ _Keith,_ ” Shiro protests, unsure if he wants to test that out or wants Keith’s hands on his cock instead. He drags him up and kisses him, slow and sloppy. Keith giggles into the kiss but responds in turn, rocking his hips forward so their cocks press together through their clothes, sending Shiro off into another low groan. 

Keith pulls back enough just to curl his fingers around Shiro’s pants and tugs down. Shiro lifts his hips, sucking in a sharp breath, holding it, waiting for Keith’s assessment. Keith’s eyes sweep over him once he tosses Shiro’s clothes aside. Shiro lays there on his bed, sprawled and naked, cock hard between his legs. Keith’s face is assessing, cheeks flushed. He bites his lip. 

Shiro feels the embarrassment bubbling, but it’s second only to the desire pulsing through him, that intense need to just have Keith’s hands on him, to have Keith inside him, around him— whatever it might be. 

“Well, what do you think?” Shiro prompts. Keith gives him a startled look and only seems to realize what Shiro means once Shiro starts laughing. 

“Are you seriously asking me?” Keith laughs back, ducking his head against Shiro’s shoulder. When Shiro keeps laughing, he feels Keith’s disbelieving huff of breath against his neck, the smile curving against his skin. Then he says, “You have a very nice cock, Shiro, thank you very much.”

“You’re very welcome,” Shiro simpers, and then starts giggling, silenced only when Keith leans in to kiss him again, much sweeter this time. 

Keith’s hand falls between them, curls around Shiro’s cock, and strokes. Shiro gasps. 

“Mm,” Keith hums, biting at Shiro’s lip. “Do you have lube?” 

It takes a moment for his brain to process the words. “Oh. The drawer.” 

Keith gives him a knowing look. “Naughty.”

“Shut up,” Shiro laughs and tugs at Keith’s hair. Keith laughs, too, reaching for the beside table’s drawer and fishing around, fetching the small bottle of lube Shiro keeps there. 

“Guess that answers the question of whether you’ve fingered yourself before,” Keith says, sounding a little shy. 

Shiro wants to kiss him. So he leans up and does so, soft and sweet, the corner of his mouth, and then Keith’s dimple when he smiles. He hears the cap opening on the bottle and sighs against Keith’s jaw as Keith warms it up in his hands, smearing his fingers. 

“Hey,” Keith whispers, turning his head and nosing at Shiro’s jaw in turn.

“Mm?”

“This is going to sound so lame, but…” Keith smiles. “Thank you?”

“For what, giving you the gift of my flower or whatever?” 

“Ew!” Keith barks out a laugh. “No!”

Shiro giggles and doesn’t protest when Keith shoves him down with a greasy, lubed-up hand. Shiro squirms beneath him, settling, tugging a pillow beneath his hips to prop himself up for Keith, spreading his legs. He might never have slept with a guy before, but he knows how it goes. 

“I meant… thanks for liking me, too,” Keith says, overly earnest, unbearably sweet considering he’s lubing up his hand and sitting between Shiro’s spread legs. 

“Oh,” Shiro gasps anyway, the little sound punching out of him. “Oh. Keith.”

Keith blushes and looks a little annoyed, embarrassed, but his expression softens when Shiro grabs his free hand and tangles their fingers together. 

“You too,” Shiro tells him, just as earnest. “Thanks for liking me. Thanks for being you.”

“Geez,” Keith whispers. He leans in closer, kissing Shiro’s nose. “How many fingers do you usually get up to?” 

“Your hand’s smaller than mine,” Shiro says. “Give me all you’ve got, baby.”

This time, it’s Keith who lets out a quiet little, “Oh.” 

Keith is nothing but diligent. Shiro knows that much if only from pebble-measuring. Keith fingering him open is— almost spiritual. He’s slow, circling his fingers around Shiro’s hole, teasing at the rim without pressing. Shiro usually takes it slow with himself, too, but when it’s Keith’s hand, it’s torture. Keith brushes over him, circles him, teases. 

“Keith,” Shiro groans as Keith presses a kiss to one of his nipples, then nuzzles at his collarbone, fingers swirling between his legs. 

“Just want to see if you actually can look annoyed,” Keith says with a grin and kisses Shiro’s pinched brow. “You’re cute.” 

“Ugh,” Shiro says, but he’s smiling. 

Keith slips a finger inside him, slow and easy, teasing at the rim. Shiro can imagine what it looks like, Keith’s fingers slim and gentle, tugging at Shiro’s pink rim, pressing inside him, slow and tortuously good. For now, all Shiro can do is focus on Keith, on the way his expression firms up in concentration, as he bows down to the task of making Shiro feel good, of prepping him. 

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” Shiro says as Keith twists his finger inside him, curls a little, works him open in short little thrusts. Shiro feels relaxed rather than tensed, feels happy rather than stressed. It’s a foreign feeling, another person inside him, but it’s one that Shiro covets— trusts Keith. 

Keith hums, pulling back enough to press in a second finger. He watches Shiro’s face carefully, movements slow, waiting for a protest that won’t come. Shiro focuses on that, on the feeling of Keith pressing inside him, his two fingers stroking into him and spreading, widening him up, his knuckles dragging across Shiro’s rim. It’s exquisite. It’s torture. 

“I…” Shiro begins, trying to find the words, once he can focus beyond Keith’s dexterous fingers. “I guess I built it all up in my mind. It was this big thing, really serious… all of that. But this is fun.” 

He didn’t realize it could be so simple, so easy. Maybe it was because his past boyfriends were so serious, he himself so serious. But with Keith, he feels anything but, feels silly and blushy, feels always like laughing. Keith, for all his appearance of seriousness, is gentle and fun, too. His smile is downright boyish, thrilled as he looks at Shiro. 

“Yeah,” Keith whispers, expression moony. “Yeah… me too, Shiro.” 

He twists his fingers inside Shiro and Shiro groans, rocking his hips up. He thrusts, meeting the pace of Keith’s fingers, and Keith drags every sound he can out of Shiro. He takes his time. He makes it good. It’s a slow drag, but by the time Keith adds a third finger, spreading Shiro open, Shiro is a gasping mess.

“I’ll use my tongue next time, too,” Keith tells him. “Pretty sure you’ll come right now if I do it tonight. And I want you to come on my cock.”

Shiro gasps, eyes wide, as Keith ducks his head and kisses his jaw, kisses up to his ear and whispers promises there, heated and leaving Shiro’s cock leaking against his stomach, a trail of precome waiting for Keith. 

“I want…” Shiro whispers, soft and needy.

“Tell me.” 

“You,” Shiro says, and knows he’s ridiculous. He licks his lips and watches Keith’s eyes drag across that movement, pupils blown wide. “I want you. Inside me. Keith, please.” 

“Okay,” Keith whispers, sounding eager, smitten. “Yeah, okay. Okay.” 

He’s still slow when he pulls his fingers out of Shiro. Shiro watches, breathless, as Keith wriggles out of his pants and tosses them aside. He stares, drinking in the way Keith looks— naked, lean. He has more muscle than he appears, but that Shiro suspected considering his strength. Keith glances up at him, blushing and looking self-conscious. He doesn’t move to cover himself, though, instead opening the lube again and stroking himself with far less care than he did Shiro. 

“You’re so hot,” Shiro sighs.

Keith snorts, but preens a little, chest swelling as he slicks himself up. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers, nervous and excited. He scoots a little, lifting his hips, grateful for the pillow to offer him the better angle. 

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Whatever,” Shiro teases and Keith gives him a look, gripping himself in one hand and pinching Shiro’s nipple with the other, smirking when Shiro gasps. 

He lines himself up and presses in, slow at first, just the tip of his cock. Shiro doesn’t whimper, but it’s a different feeling entirely. He tenses up despite himself. Keith pauses, waiting, his hand stroking over Shiro’s chest and stomach, comforting, soothing. After a moment, Shiro closes his eyes and forces himself to relax. He feels Keith shift, and then press into him. 

Keith’s a modest size, but Shiro feels like he’s being split apart. He reaches out blindly and grips Keith by the shoulders, forcing himself to breathe. Keith watches his face closely, movements slow and precise. He brushes his hands over Shiro. 

“I’ve got you,” he tells Shiro and Shiro believes him. “You’re so good, Shiro. It’s okay.” 

Shiro nods, but can’t summon words, sighing out and fully relaxing when he feels Keith press fully into him, hips flush against his body. 

“Wow,” he sighs, looking down between his legs, seeing the arc and bow of Keith’s body. 

“Yeah,” Keith whispers, faintly. “Tell me when I can move.”

Shiro wraps his legs around Keith’s hips and drags him in. “Move. Baby, move.” 

Keith doesn’t need to be told twice. He presses his hands to Shiro’s chest and rocks forward, fucking into him. The first few thrusts punch a moan from Shiro and he arches. He grabs at Keith, dragging him down closer. 

The angles all wrong but he manages it, squirming up to kiss Keith. Keith sighs and kisses him back, but it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, focusing on the thrust of his hips, moaning when Shiro rolls his hips to meet him. 

“Good, good, you’re so good,” Keith gasps with each thrust and Shiro covets each sound he makes, wants to swallow each word Keith sighs, wants to always feel Keith inside him like this. 

Shiro doesn’t know what words he’s saying, only knows he’s responding to Keith. He moans, gasps, whimpers out Keith’s name, praises him, grasps at him. It’s so much, everything at once. He’s never quite felt like this, never knew it could be so different when it was with someone he liked, someone he trusted, someone who looked at him like he was someone worth seeing. 

He tightens his legs around Keith’s hips, heels pressing into the small of his back, dragging him in closer. 

“Please,” Shiro gasps, not sure what he’s begging for. His hands scramble at Keith’s shoulders. 

Keith turns his head and kisses the inside of Shiro’s wrist, then takes both his hands with his own, pinning him down and leaning in, kissing him. He bites at his lip and thrusts forward.

“Come, Shiro,” Keith commands him, and _god_ Shiro wants to obey, his entire body bowing. Keith drops a hand between them, squeezing around Shiro, strokes him off, and it takes only two pulls on his cock before he’s coming with a cry of Keith’s name, come splattering over his stomach, pooling in the heave of his belly. Keith looks triumphant, smug and determined in a way that suits him, makes him look devastatingly handsome in a new way Shiro gets to catalogue. 

“You too,” Shiro gasps, as his body starts shuddering, oversensitive, each drag of Keith’s cock threatening to undo him. “Keith, you too. Come in me. Come on—”

Keith’s eyes widen at Shiro’s words before he squeezes his eyes shut and groans. A few thrusts later, he’s coming inside Shiro. He can feel it happen, and it’s unlike anything he’s felt before, that heat pooling inside him. His heart twists up, satisfied in a way he can’t explain— something of Keith’s inside him, marking him, filling him. He never wants to be empty again. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. “Don’t pull out.” 

“I’ll go soft,” Keith answers against his mouth, kissing him gently, a series of slow, short pecks. 

“So go soft.”

Keith groans at that but obeys him. He stays inside Shiro and instead focuses on kissing him, again and again. They swap lazy kisses, breathing heavy and harsh despite that gentleness. 

“So?” Keith prompts, just a slide of his mouth against Shiro’s. “Verdict?” 

“Mmf,” Shiro sighs and Keith laughs, nipping at his mouth. He presses his forehead to Shiro’s. 

Shiro smiles at him when their eyes meet. 

“Hey, baby,” he whispers. “Want to keep counting pebbles with me?”

“Oh my god,” Keith laughs. “Stop!” 

Shiro laughs, wrapping his arms around him and dragging him. “You know if we say the pebble-counting were dates, we’ve had plenty now.” 

“Please,” Keith laughs and kisses him again, smoothing Shiro’s hair from his face. He smiles at him, soppy and sweet. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Shiro answers, smiling back. 

“You’re okay?” Keith asks. 

“Better than,” Shiro agrees and nuzzles his nose to Keith’s. Keith chuckles and returns the gesture. 

“I’m going to fall asleep,” Keith mutters. 

“Ah. You’re that type,” Shiro says, sage.

“Mmm. You’re the expert now.” Keith drops his head to nuzzle his shoulder. 

“Guess I am!” 

They cuddle like that, slow and lazy and unhurried. Keith doesn’t pull out of Shiro, as promised, and he does go soft inside Shiro. That, too, is a new feeling. Shiro loves it. Shiro loves every moment of it. He loves it even more when, after about an hour of napping, Keith fingers himself open and rides Shiro’s cock, hair in his eyes, body tensing and flexing. 

Shiro’s never been happier. They wake up the next morning and go on their first date, getting breakfast at a greasy diner, holding hands the entire time. 

Two weeks later, they get a B on their geology project. It’s better than both of them were expecting and they celebrate by skipping the next class.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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